


How to read a map.

by Bumble_Beckie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Asexual Character, Background Ginny Weasley/Luna Lovegood/Pansy Parkinson, Fluff, Gay Draco, Greysexual Harry, Leaky Cauldron, M/M, Post-Hogwarts, Sexual Discovery, Wholesome, awkward bois, background Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley - Freeform, graysexual, minor hurt/comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:07:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24554395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bumble_Beckie/pseuds/Bumble_Beckie
Summary: Harry's never been able to read a map. Then he met Draco.orHarry's still working out his sexuality and then Draco comes along and fucks it all up.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 4
Kudos: 104





	How to read a map.

**Author's Note:**

> Halo Frens!  
> This is the first time that I've written in a while!  
> Please bare with me ^_^  
> It's all much wholesome and gentle.  
> Hope you enjoyyy.

To Harry, Sex was an enigma. He understood it. He liked it. But he didn't want for it.

He distinctly remembers those conversations in the Gryffindor dorms, late nights, guy talk. Boys talking about people they found sexy or hot - large breasts and nice bum or big biceps and thick legs. He remembers those conversations because he didn't understand. In theory, he knew what 'sexy' was. He knew what made someone attractive because he had heard others talk but when he tried to think of it, tried to comprehend it - he couldn't.

"Do you think Lavender's hot?" Ron had once asked. And Harry had thought about it. But why should he know? She was just some girl.

So, "I don't know, I guess." He'd responded but it came out more inquisitive than he'd intended. Ron had hummed in agreement as if Harry had made a very interesting counterpoint in some intellectual debate. 

"I think," Ron began, sounding like he was adding an important argument in this discussion, "she's really hot."

"Why?" Harry had asked before even considering the repercussions of his inquiry.

"What do you mean, 'why'?"

"Well... I -" Harry had not prepared for this, he felt like he was rapidly losing the debate, "Why do you find her hot?"

Ron paused, looked at Harry, opened his mouth, closed it again and then looked away. Harry remembered it so clearly as Ron had looked at him with a face of utter bemusement. That face represented everything Harry felt when he tried to comprehend 'Sexy'. Ron had begun to gesture vaguely in front of him as if he had a graph that he was using as a reference.

"Well," his gestures continuing, as if to direct Harry's point of view to the statistics of 'hot', "she just is, ya know."

He sighed, despite Ron's obvious confusion, Harry had still felt as if he was the one losing this debate and resigned himself to this loss, "Yeah, yeah."

He remembers those conversations. He remembers that situation because he remembers feeling lost. He felt like Ron and Neville, Dean and Seamus, and everyone it seemed; they were following a map when Harry had never been even taught to read a map. Harry was just following their lead and as soon as he was by himself, he was completely lost.

This map was 'sexy'.

Yes, this map had a big bum and nice arms.

No, that's not what he meant. He meant that the map showed the route to 'sexy' and he had no idea how to read it.

But that didn't matter. He didn't need a map. He didn't need to know the route because he had spent most of his teenage years trying not to die. And Harry would have rather had a map to the horcruxes than to sexual appeal. Now that Harry isn't running into life threatening circumstances at every corner, he's starting to wonder if he'll ever learn to read that map because now, he doesn't feel lost. Harry feels like he's not even on the map and its almost more confusing than before.

He's currently sitting in The Leaky Cauldron at a booth in the corner. On his left is Ron with his arm thrown around Hermione followed by Luna who is grinning across the table at Ginny. Between Harry and Ginny is Neville and most surprisingly, with a chair pulled up to the table and a hand over Ginny's is Parkinson. And it still surprises Harry anytime she shows up, arms linked with Ginny or Luna and he always has this reaction to draw his wand, to protect.

But he doesn't. Because they're not in danger, there is no confrontation. They’re happy and he doesn't understand how but if Parkinson is making his friends happy then who is he to stop her. It just adds another thing to his list of the incomprehensible. Right under sexual attraction.

It's at that very moment that the entire table turns to look at Harry. Ah, he probably should have been listening.

"What?"

"Ginny'd asked if you'd finally got yourself a shag?" Parkinson gracefully answers and Harry forces a smile that he thinks looks more like a grimace.

"Uh, that would be a no. I'm- no." Harry stutters out. He had considered, in the past, to try and fake reading the map but remembered those conversations and situations and realised it's awfully difficult to fake something you know little about.

"Come on Harry, you could get anyone you wanted." Ron adds. Harry's fleeting hope, that the conversation would move on, swiftly dissipates as Neville adds the helpful comment,

"There's a cute guy at the bar. If you got any good pickup lines, we could remedy that tonight." Ron holds his hand for a high five over Harry and Neville smirks and claps Ron's hand.

"Yeah, we'll be your wingman!" Ron adds, far more excited for this than Harry is.

"No, no, no, no, no, no." Harry pleas as his friends start to pull him up by him arms. Before anyone can move to let them scramble out from behind the table, Ginny stops them,

"Oh no," and for a brief moment Harry believes he is saved, "if anyone's going to be his wingman, I think I'm far more suited to the job."

Maybe not saved, but given a window of opportunity as the table begins to debate which of them would make the best wingman. He sits back down and lets them talk, hoping that the longer he stays silent, the more time he has to work out an escape plan. He considers for a moment how big the windows are in the men’s loo but then decides he not quite that desperate. He takes a moment to look around the table and breathes as he soaks up the energy radiating from his friends. The love. He smiles. He realises that maybe he could just ask how to read a map. Or at least ask why he can’t. They are his friends after all.

"Guys, guys." He starts, but seemingly not loud enough.

"GUYS."

The table pauses and all eyes are on Harry.

"Although I appreciate your attempts to hook me up with someone, it's not what I want. And I don't just mean this guy. I mean... anyone?" He tries to explain but quickly realises that he's made it sound even more complicated.

"Ohhh," Ron starts, as if he's cracked a code, "you want more than just a one-night stand! That's fair mate."

"No! Yes? But no." Harry has really dug himself a hole now. He's starting to regret opening his mouth.

"Why thank you Potter, it makes so much sense now." Pansy adds and Harry thinks he can see the sarcasm dripping from her voice. Ginny precedes to whack her on the arm and smiles at Harry,

"Go on."

"I think what I'm trying to say is, I don't find people 'sexy'. I've never found anyone 'sexy'. I feel like I don't know what it even means sometimes." Harry manages to finally form the words and then the table falls into silence and he feels like he's made such a fool of himself. What a stupid thing to say, he should have stayed quiet, he's not even making any sense. Or at least that's what he thinks until Luna breaks the quiet.

"You might be asexual, Harry." She suggests with a gentle smile.

Harry looks back at Luna with a blank stare as the term goes over his head and a loud bark of laughter is heard from his side as Neville seems amused,

"Sorry Luna, I think you've got mixed up, that's like plant and micro-organism stuff and I don't think Harry's a plant."

"No, you're both right." Hermione adds, "Asexual reproduction is what you're talking about Neville but I think Luna's talking about the sexuality."

Harry is feeling awfully confused and turns to Hermione and then back to Luna and laughs gently,

"I'm sorry, I'm a little lost here, what is Asexuality?"

"The asexual spectrum is the spectrum of sexual attraction. People who identify as asexual don't experience sexual attraction." Hermione explains.

"Huh, maybe," Harry thinks for a moment. Asexual. It sounds like it might fit. He just doesn't know how to tell if it's right. How is he supposed to know? And then the topic passes as Hermione asks Ginny about the Quidditch season. Its something that he's sure Hermione knows little to nothing about and he silently thanks her for the distraction and the night continues as normal.

\---

It was at breakfast the next morning when harry began to properly consider what Luna had mentioned. In Hogwarts, he'd never had a chance to explore or experiment his sexuality - he'd found he was a little preoccupied. But it wasn't like he'd tried to find time to or even wanted to find time to. The little dating he did do was fine. But it was just fine. Sex was never at the forefront of his mind but he’d never thought that it should be, or should it?

What he didn't get was that he liked sex? He just didn't understand 'sexy'. After the war, in the brief period when he and Ginny had been together, he had finally had a chance to explore his sexuality and he found that sex was good. He liked sex. He liked it a lot. But not because it was Ginny. He didn't want Ginny. He just liked feeling good.

Oh Merlin, this was getting awfully confusing, and now his tea was cold. He gets up and goes to the sink, tips out his tea and decides to up the caffeine intake as he boils the kettle. He makes a coffee and checks through his phone. Maybe it was time to call in for some help.

"Hey Luna! You free today?"

\---

Harry's sitting in his favourite seat in his favourite café with his favourite coffee - a caramel macchiato, for reference - whilst convincing himself that he'd had a late night and that this much caffeine was completely acceptable. It was only his third? coffee of the day.

He likes this seat because it is right in the corner and has the perfect view if the entire café. Ideal for people watching. It's quiet today, which makes sense as Monday morning isn't really prime business time, but it means there are not many people to watch. He scans the room to see a couple of teenagers at one table by the window pointing with excitement at the small dog sitting outside. The only other person in the cafe is the barista behind the counter, who is taking a chance to clean the coffee machine in the quiet. He checks his phone to see if Luna has messaged him but alas, no notifications. She's probably got stuck on the tube or the bus, Harry thinks, he did ask her to meet at short notice. Then he begins to feel guilty for taking up her time, this isn't worth her going out of her way. It seems so minor, maybe he should cancel and work it out by himself?

The bell chimes as someone enters the coffee shop. He lifts his head expecting to see a stranger or Luna. He's wrong. It's a different blonde and he can't quite believe his eyes. He feels stuck as his eyes follow none other than

Draco Malfoy.

It's not like he hasn't seen Malfoy since the war. He has. But only passing glances in the Leaky Cauldron or at Luna's birthday. Not in a quaint cafe in muggle London. And now his glance is much more that passing as he feels like he needs to take in every inch of the man ordering his coffee.

Harry blinks and shakes his head, he's just another bloke on this Monday morning and Harry tries to ignore the fact that he's finding it remarkably difficult to look away from how the tight denim stretches over his rather lovely arse. But he does and begins staring straight into his coffee. Some small hope that maybe if he doesn't look maybe Malfoy won't notice him. He's starting to lose the staring contest with his macchiato when he's gets interrupted,

"Potter?"

It seems like the 'if you can't see them, they can't see you' tactic is failing; so, Harry slowly lifts his head to meet stunning silver eyes and he almost slaps himself to remind him that this is Malfoy.

"Malfoy," Harry croaks and feels like a teenager again as his voice breaks, "what a surprise."

"It is."

There's a significant pause before anyone speaks as Harry is unsure how to converse with his ex-rival-come-acquaintance. What do you ask someone who you haven't spoken to for literal years?

"How are you?" He goes with, hoping by some miracle that the café gets robbed and then they'd both be saved from this horribly awkward encounter.

Malfoy begins to speak but it immediately interrupted by the door swinging open and Luna rushing in. A miracle Harry thinks. Luna hurries over,

"Sorry I'm late Harry, I still find the underground ever so confusing," Luna pauses and looks at Malfoy, "oh, Draco! How lovely to see you."

"Luna, what a pleasure," Draco returns with the most genuine smile Harry thinks he's ever seen from Draco and he decides that it rather suits him.

"Would you like to join us for coffee?" Luna asks and Harry is about to object as this is not what he signed up for but luckily Malfoy beats him to it.

"No, no, I ought to be going. Lovely to see you Luna," he turns and gives her a half hug with the arm not preoccupied by coffee and then gives and awkward wave to Harry and nods,

"Potter."

And then he is gone as swiftly as he entered, and Harry isn't even sure if he saw him leave as he stares blankly at the door. All he can think is, what just happened?

"You alright Harry, you look like you've seen a Nundu?"

Harry hums absently, pretending that he knows what a Nundu is. He slowly draws his attention back to the table, Luna smiles at him and puts her bag down,

"I'll just get a drink!"

By the time Luna returns, a tea between her hands, Harry thinks he's finally recovered from his unexpected encounter enough to articulate a sentence.

"I didn't realise you knew Malfoy that well," Harry began.

"It would be rude not to get to know my girlfriend's best friend." Luna smiles and takes a sip from her tea, "and besides, he's been helping me do research for the quibbler, it's been so helpful."

"Oh," Harry feels slightly dejected at the fact he knows so little about Malfoy and surprised that he hadn't heard about his help earlier, "that's nice, I guess."

Luna hums, "It is. So, what did you want to talk about, Harry?" Then Harry feels horribly awkward,

"It's not that important really," he says, scratching the back of his head, "sorry you came all this way, you just seemed like you knew what you were talking about yesterday and I thought, maybe, you could help?"

"It's alright Harry, I quite like the underground, it makes for such an interesting adventure - so much more interesting than apparating!" Luna beams at Harry and some of the tension melts away. He takes a deep breath and begins to speak,

"Yesterday, you said you thought I could be asexual? And when Hermione explained, for a moment, it made sense, but I thought about it this morning and realised that, that I like sex? So would that mean I do feel sexual attraction? I just don't know how to know what I am." Harry catches his breathe as he feels that all the tension, that he even didn't realise he was holding, falls.

"It's okay not to know, you don't need to choose a label if you don't want to." Luna pauses, "and I don't think liking sex is the same as sexual attraction."

"Right?"

"I've met people before who are asexual and sex-repulsed and asexual people who are sex-positive." Luna continues, and Harry feels like his head might explode with all the different terms.

"Okay," He breathes, "so what you're saying is I can be asexual and still like sex?"

"Yep."

Harry huffs and smiles at Luna, although the smile ends up sort if lop-sided as his brain is still processing,

"You seem to know an awful lot about, all this stuff?"

Luna hums absently,

"I guess I do." She thinks for a moment, "I've met a lot of people in the community and when me and Ginny wanted to get with Pansy, we had to learn a lot about sexualities and relationships to make it work."

"I still can't get my head around it."

"Around what, Harry?"

"You and Ginny, and Pansy? I'm glad you're happy but -" Harry feels like he's stuck his foot in it, he shouldn't judge.

"But we make it work. And you're right, I'm happy. We're happy. I guess that's all that matters." Luna smiles gently at Harry.

He's thankful for her, for her understanding and he thinks that he's got some stuff to figure out.

"Thank you, Luna."

\---

Harry's cooking dinner that evening, glad for his day off, when his mind starts to wonder. He can't believe he saw Malfoy again. Spoke to Malfoy. It feels like it's been years and to just bump into him in a coffee shop, a muggle coffee shop at that. It must have been 2 years? since they'd last spoken and he can't help but wonder what he's doing now. He's barely heard from him, about him, since. What was he doing? Where was he working? Where did he live? Did he have a partner? And could he smell burning?

Oh, shit. He's burnt his eggs. Harry quickly tries to scrape the eggs off the bottom of the pan and tips it onto some toast. Burnt eggs on toast. Lovely. If he puts enough salt and pepper on maybe it'll be edible.

He spends the rest of his evening drifting in and out of his thoughts, mostly filled with his ex-rival. Harry finds himself wanting to know him and talk to him. And what is he thinking? This is Malfoy. He is just some guy and he shouldn't be preoccupied thinking about him and even if Harry did want to see Draco - sorry, Malfoy - the likelihood of bumping into him is so slim that he probably won't see him for another year.

Or so he thought.

It's exactly one week later and Harry is back at the Leaky Cauldron with everyone but Neville, who had got caught up at work late and might not be able to make it. Somehow, they were discussing the best food they had used as ammunition in their years at Hogwarts and all is normal. Harry starts making his argument for profiteroles working as mini cream cannon balls when that blonde that Harry has been trying to push out of his thoughts saunters right up to their table and smiles that stupidly perfect smile, acting as if it is totally normal for him to be there.

"Oh, hello Draco!" Luna beams at him and Harry remembers that these two were friends now and almost scowls at the thought. Not that it's bad that they're friends, he thinks, he must just find it weird seeing him around?

"I hope it's okay that I invited Draco," Pansy starts, "Luna mentioned that Harry and her had bumped into him and I realised that we never catch up all together."

Right, where one Slytherin goes the other one follows, and Harry looks around the group expecting some resistance but everyone is smiling and acting happy families - even Ron? - as if their childhood enemy hadn't just sat down at the table like they were best friends. Like their so called rival hasn't just sat across from Harry, perfectly positioned in his direct eyeline.

But as the evening goes on, it almost does feel normal. And despite Harry's immediate reaction of confusion and frustration, he finds that he isn't as opposed to the idea of having Draco around as he first thought. Being in a group prevents the awkward one-on-one conversations and Draco even buys a round for the table - a pleasant surprise. And Harry can't deny that he's enjoying the eye candy.

Eye candy.

EYE CANDY.

He really likes the eye candy. And he realises that he's never even considered using that phrase before. And without realising it, Harry is looking at a map. He's starting to read a map. He's never read a map in his life before, and he's not quite sure how or why he's started now but the fact that there even is a map is new to Harry.

Harry is looking intensely at his fire whisky and isn't sure he can look at Draco again after realising that he is, by Harry's limited understanding of the word, sexy. He can feel his cheeks heating up at the thought and silently thanks the dim lights and flowing conversation for hiding his face.

Yes, Harry knows that many people in the world are attractive. He knows that many people are 'sexy' to other people. But Harry has never had such a physical reaction to someone before and it makes it even more confusing.

Harry carefully raises his gaze and forces himself to look at anyone but Draco. But he really wants to look at Draco. He really wants to look at that shiny blonde hair and sharp jawbone, flawless skin, perfectly plump lips and those swirling grey eyes that could draw Harry in like a siren.

And he realises that he _has_ been looking at those things and his attempt to ignore has failed miserably as those lips smile right at Harry and those endless eyes are smiling too as they return his gaze. Harry doesn't know how to react but what he does know is that, for whatever reason, he can't look away. It feels like hours staring. He's almost forgotten where he is until,

"Draco makes a killer veggie carbonara." Draco pulls his eyes away after hearing his name and begins talking to Pansy.

Harry glances around the group, cheeks burning now, but no ones eyes are on him and it seems their moment had gone unnoticed. But Harry noticed.

He finds it particularly hard to focus for the rest of the evening, he downs his fire-whisky and let's the world continue around him, only pulled from his thoughts as people begin to leave and talk starts of apparating home. He shuffles out of the pub and says his goodbyes as everyone disperses until only him and Draco are left. Harry turns to Draco and can't find any words so he looks at the sky. So does Draco. They stand in silence, surrounded by the chill breeze and the gentle rumblings from inside The Leaky Cauldron. Harry hears Draco take a deep breath,

"Walk with me?" Draco asks quietly, looking back to Harry for an answer. And he finds that he can't say no. That he doesn't want to say no.

So, they walk. And talk. Wondering along the streets around Charring Cross and Harry finds a chance to ask the questions he was so desperate to know.

"What are you doing now?"

Draco huffs out a laugh and a gentle smile,

"Don't laugh," he pauses and takes a breath, "I'm a florist." And Harry doesn't laugh because the image of him working somewhere so quaint shocks him, he almost thinks it's a joke.

"A florist?"

Draco hums in response. And Harry realises he is serious. Images of Draco in a delicate apron, handling beautiful flowers flood Harry's mind and he finds himself smiling.

"Why would I laugh?" He asks.

"Because you're "The Boy Who Lived", "The Chosen One", you're the best Auror of our time. And I'm a - flower boy."

Harry frowns, he doesn't want all those titles, he just wants to be Harry.

"I'm not the best Auror of our time. They call me that because they want to suck up to me. I'm clumsy and forgetful and I'm awful at paperwork. And being a florist, well it sounds... nice." Harry trails of and thinks he could have picked a better word.

"Nice?" Draco laughs and feigns offense.

"No, I mean it sounds calm and if you enjoy it, then that's all that matters."

Draco smiles and Harry thinks he wants to see that smile over and over again.

"I do enjoy it."

"How'd you start, anyway?" There’s a pause as Draco gathers his words.

"I needed money." He starts, "and no one would take me after the war. Especially not with this on my arm," he stops. Harry can feel the regret lacing his words as Draco lifts his sleeve to show a faded and scarred Dark Mark. Harry has an innate reaction to take his arm in his hands. So, he does. Draco's breath hitches as Harry starts tracing the mark and surrounding scars. He takes a moment to breathe before continuing,

"so, I decided to look for a muggle job. There was this part-time job as an assistant in a florist in London. I found that I loved the care and precision of looking after the flowers and picking the right ones for customers. And it turns out that plants don't care about who I used to be. Anyway, I kept working there and got promoted and here I am." Harry is still holding onto Draco and quickly comes to his senses when Draco stops talking. He drops his arm,

"Sorry, sorry, I- I don’t know why,"

"No, no, it's okay. Blame it on the fire whiskey." Draco smirks at Harry and Harry can't help but smile back.

"I'm sorry about the way people treated you for your past, it's not fair, you were only a child. We were all only children. But I'm glad you found that job, it sounds good for you."

Draco hums. They continue to walk in silence, brisk air against their skin as they walk through the streets of London. Taxis and cars passing every now and then. A few people out late walk past them but mostly it's quiet. Just the sound of feet on concrete echoing between the tall buildings either side of them. With Streetlights providing the only source if colour, Harry watches as Draco’s hair seems to sparkle every time they pass under one. You're beautiful. Is all Harry can think. Draco stops suddenly, directly under a lamppost; he turns and looks at Harry.

Draco is just staring at Harry as if Harry had said something and then he realises,

"Oh, did I say that out loud?" Harry laughs awkwardly and looks at the floor, he brings his arm up and scratches his neck, almost attempting to cover his face. Draco nods slightly and Harry's not sure if he's blinked since his slip up.

"I- thank you." Draco says but can't seem to form any words so turns away from Harry and continues to walk in the direction they were going.

Harry is sure he's fucked up, now Draco is going to walk away, and Harry will never see him again because he forgot to shut his mouth. Just when he thought that they might even start being friends. That he was actually learning something. Draco's a few meters ahead when he stops and looks over his shoulder at Harry which had just been staring at Draco's back at a loss of what to do.

"You coming?" Draco calls back to him and Harry let's out a sigh. Maybe he hasn't fucked up, at least not yet.

He jogs slightly to catch up with Draco and they continue walking. Eventually, they arrive at a crossroads and Harry realises that they have no notion of where they're walking.

"Which way?" Harry asks.

"I don't know. I usually apparate home."

"Well we could apparate to mine and chat over a drink?" Harry says on a complete impulse and then worries he's pushing his luck, "or yours? Or neither? Sorry, just an idea."

Draco laughs, hard. His breathing begins to slow, and he smiles brightly at Harry. Yes, Harry thinks. Yes, that's a sight to behold.

"What, did I say something funny?"

"No, no," he starts, catching his breath, "it's just, I didn't expect the Saviour of the Wizarding World to be so awkward. It's endearing."

"Oh." Harry huffs out a laugh, "Thank you? I think." He pauses, looks around and realises that they are still standing in the corner of the crossroads, "so where are we going? Or are we departing for tonight?"

"I wouldn't despise having a drink before heading back. Yours it is."

"Mine it is." Harry agrees and holds his arm out for Draco. He takes his arm and in an instant they're twisted to Harry's front door. This is when Harry realises that he is certainly not prepared for a guest and it might be worth a disclaimer. Harry takes his arm from Draco and starts unlocking the door,

"Err, just a fore warning that I was not expecting anyone tonight and mess would be an understatement." Draco laughs at Harry's concern and promises him that he won't judge too harshly.

And then Draco is in his apartment, sitting on his sofa, drinking a glass of a random white wine that Harry had dug out from the back of the cupboard. Harry sits next to him with a glass of water in an attempt to focus his thoughts.

"So, Potter, what does the biggest name in the Wizarding World do for fun?" Draco asks.

Harry is taken aback for a second because he honestly blanks on his own hobbies, what does he do? He cooks, works, drinks coffee and oh,

"I guess I like to play quidditch every now and then, but sometimes it's hard to find an empty space to play. And everyone has full time jobs so it's only when I can drag someone to a random field." He explains.

"I miss quidditch, it was so freeing up there. So much space, no restraints." Draco added. Harry remembers when they used to play and despite the rivalry they had, he must admit that Draco played well. He put up a good fight on the pitch.

"We should do a seeker’s match sometime?" Harry asks on a whim, "if you're not scared I'll beat you." He teases. And Draco blushes. Harry thinks its adorable.

"’Sure it's not the other way around?" Draco smirks, "although I admit, I'm probably a bit out of practice. I haven't played since," he pauses, "since 5th year."

"I don't blame you. We were somewhat preoccupied."

Draco huffs a laugh. No one says anything for a while, they just sip on their drinks. Harry looks over at Draco and Draco is just staring into his glass, deep in thought. Harry takes a chance to breathe and wonder how on earth this happened. But he also finds that he doesn't care, he's just glad that it has because now Draco is here, and he feels thankful. He's not quite sure why, but it feels right.

"I'm sorry." Draco says almost a whisper, still looking away from Harry. And Harry thinks he sees a tear fall down his cheek.

"Why?"

Draco looks up now and he looks so confused,

"because of the way I treated you for 7 years? For fighting on the wrong side? For kicking you and berating you and for, for following him when," he breathes, "when I knew it was wrong." Draco's gaze is so intense, and he forces himself to keep looking at Harry. He is definitely crying now and Harry's heart hurts as he watches Draco's confident demeanour and strong facade crack. Harry leans forward rests his hand against Draco's cheek, he gently uses his thumb to wipe away the tears.

"I'm sorry." Draco repeats.

"I'm sorry too." Harry replies, "for hurting you, for not seeing the pain you were in. For not taking a minute of my time to consider what it was like for you. For being so selfish and for trying to hate you. But, I meant what I said before. We were only children. We were naive and things were out of our control. You did what you thought had to at the time and so did I. And it's in the past now. You've grown. You're not who you used to be." Harry stops, realises how much he meant what he said. He realises that he is also crying, and that he's still holding Draco's face. He drops his hand and then immediately pulls Draco into a hug.

It's an awkward angle but he thinks that this is what they both need. Draco shifts away to put his glass down and for a moment Harry thinks he's going to leave; that he's gone too far, pushed their boundaries. But he doesn't. He wraps his arms around Harry and rests his head in the crook of Harry's neck. They sit there and hold each other for what feels like hours. Silence but for the quiet sobs.

Eventually Harry's back starts to ache at the slightly twisted angle and when Draco's breathing softens, he pulls away.

"I'm not sure you're in the best state to apparate home." Harry laughs slightly and so does Draco.

"It's alright, I think I've cried the alcohol out of my system." Draco crooks out and smiles wearily.

"Are you sure you can get home safely? I don't mind you crashing here." Harry checks.

"Yeah, yeah, it's fine. But thank you." Draco stops and considers for a moment before looking away, "-maybe we can get a coffee sometime and catch up properly?"

"Yeah, that would be nice." Harry replies.

"I'll promise not to cry all over you next time." Draco says as he stands and picks up his things of the table. He picks up his phone, unlocks it and passes it to Harry.

"Might make it easier to contact each other? Instead of waiting until we accidentally cross paths again." Draco suggests when Harry looks slightly confused at his action.

He takes Draco's phone, types in his number, and returns it to him.

"Alright, I'll talk to you soon?" Harry says. Draco nods and thanks him before apparating away and Harry is left staring at a blank space. He blinks and feels slightly lost. He almost feels as if this evening was some weird dream. But not necessarily a bad one.

He goes to bed that night with a mind full of blonde hair, grey eyes, memories of soft skin in his, the gentle scrape of hands on his back and a warmth rested against him. He goes to bed with a mind full of Draco.

\---

Harry spends his week fairly normally but constantly feels on edge and checks his phone far to often as he waits for Draco's message. He feels like hitting his head against a wall. Why didn't he ask for Draco's number as well? What if Draco was just being polite? Why can't he stop thinking about him and his stupid sexy arse?

Despite being majorly distracted by Draco, he also finds plenty of time to be confused about his sudden realisation that there is a map and that he might even be on that map.

He thanks the heavens that most of his work this week has been admin as his mind is not on task and he's not sure he would have been the most helpful on the field. It gets to lunch time and Harry realises that he's completed less than half of what he should have. It's at this point he gives in, pulls out his phone and calls for help. Again.

"Hi Harry!" A soft voice picks up.

"Luna, hey! Are you free for a chat?" He asks.

"Yes of course, perfect timing really, just about to take a break."

"Ah, cool." Harry pauses, unsure of what to say next. He hears shuffling from the other end of the phone and takes it as a chance to think. The sounds quiet and Luna begins to speak.

"So, what did you want to talk about?"

"Well, it's just," Harry takes a moment, "it's just about Draco? Kind of. And what we spoke about last week?"

"Go on, Harry."

"I thought that it made sense, being asexual as I've never felt like someone was sexually attractive. I've never thought of someone as sexy and then. And then..." Harry feels slightly awkward trying to explain this despite how supportive Luna is.

"And then?"

"And then I saw Draco again. And I've never reacted like this with someone. Like, I'm physically attracted to him. I want to fuck him? I've never actively wanted a person. I'm just, I was so happy that I finally had an explanation and now I've gone and mixed it up again." Harry breathes, he had spoken so quickly and forgotten to pause properly, "sorry, that was probably too much information."

Harry hears a gentle laugh from the other end of the phone. Not mocking but almost empathetic.

"It's okay Harry, it's not always easy. Sexuality is fluid and can change, so it could be you've just changed through your life. But Asexuality is a spectrum like so many other things. There are things like demisexual when the person needs a strong connection or romantic attraction before developing sexual attraction." Luna provides.

"Right." Harry thinks, "I mean, we did have a connection, I'm sure of that. But I think I was attracted to him before I had a chance to know him?"

"Well, there's also broader terms like graysexual which is more of an umbrella term. It sometimes suggests that you experience very limited sexual attraction, or it occurs in very specific circumstances."

"Right, okay. So, I'm not just going crazy?" Harry asks, laughing slightly.

"No Harry, not at all, in fact there are many people who are part of the ace spectrum. It's more common that you might think." Luna adds.

Harry smiles and feels somewhat relieved, "Thank you for helping, I really appreciate it."

"Any time, Harry!"

"I'll leave you to your lunch. Have a nice day!"

"You too Harry!" He puts down his phone and breathes.

Well, that’s a start at least. He mentally thanks Luna for her patience with him and hopes that it will all make more sense to him soon. Harry checks his phone one last time and decisively leaves it as his desk as he goes for lunch. He won’t let his life revolve around waiting on a text message.

But the first thing Harry does when he gets back to his office is turn on his phone. He squeaks and drops it back on the table as it vibrates in his hand. A message. It could be from anyone. It’s unlikely that it’s Draco, but it could be. And what if it is? What then? Harry is staring at his phone that is face down on his desk; it vibrates again, and Harry almost stands as he jumps in reaction.

Enough. There’s no point panicking about a message when it’s probably just Ron asking a bizarre question about the logistics of a fruit lasagne.

He carefully lifts his phone, unlocks the screen, and reads the notification.

2 messages.

One from Ron.

One from an unknown number.

He opens the one from Ron first.

**Ron: if I made lasagen with bread instead of pasta, would it still be lasagne?**

Harry laughs out loud unable to hold it back. Well, he wasn’t far off the mark. He answers Ron and mentally thanks him for unintentionally calming him down. He takes a breath and then reads the next message.

**Unknown number:** **So, about that coffee?**

It’s Draco. It’s actually Draco. He spent his entire week waiting for this bloody text. The first thing he does is add him as a contact and then he replies.

**Harry: Took you long enough.**

**Blonde Buffoon: Well, I’m sorry that I have a life. So, how does this weekend sound?**

**Harry: I think that would be adequate.**

Harry and Draco sent up a time and place and with a smile on his face, he finishes his work that he’s been neglecting the past few days. Suddenly, all the nerves and panic that has been brewing in him for the past week elevates and he is happy. Excited even.

\---

The weekend comes and the calm state Harry had ended the week on quickly dissipates as he begins to worry about the million and one ways he is going to fuck up on his date. Date. Is it even a date? Did they clarify? What if Draco just wants to be friends? Not that he doesn’t want to be friends. He just thought there was something more. But what if Draco doesn’t see that? What if Harry’s finally found someone on his map and Draco doesn’t have Harry on his map? That would just… suck.

What if Draco finds out about Harry’s sexuality and finds it weird or wrong? He didn’t even consider that. He’s going to have to explain this whole – thing. Good god, he was overthinking this.

In the hours prior to the date (?), Harry has changed outfits at least 5 times; spent almost an hour trying to calm his messy curls; and has drank 3 cups of tea leading to a very urgent toilet break before heading out of his flat. Harry’s not sure he’s felt this nervous in his life – except maybe for the time he had to walk to his own death but that was very unusual circumstances. And, Harry thinks, that he might be walking to his own death depending on how badly he messes up.

By the time that Harry had arrived at the café of Draco’s choosing, his hands are literally shaking, and he can’t understand why he’s so nervous, but he is. He can’t see any signs of Draco inside but decides to go in, order a coffee – a caramel macchiato, of course – and sit down. He checks the time on his phone and as if like clockwork, Draco walked into the café - right on the hour. Harry watches Draco as he scans the room, presumably looking for Harry. When he notices him, Draco smiles lightly and waves awkwardly before gesturing to the small queue in front of him.

Harry takes Draco in as he is waiting to place his order and admires his coordination. His entire outfit is a combination of blues and greys and Harry notices a beautiful silver earing on Draco’s left ear. He never knew Draco had piercings. He realises that he’s still got a lot more to learn about Draco and he can’t wait to do so.

Draco comes over with his drink in hand and sits down opposite Harry.

“What’d you order?” Harry asks.

“Black Americano.” Draco answers with a small smile, “What about you?”

“Caramel Macchiato.”

“Is that just caramel in coffee?”

“Basically. Tastes good, do you want to try?” Harry moves his cup towards Draco and Draco looks at it warily. Draco picks up the mug and sort of inspects the top as it is about to jump out and attack him.

“It won’t bite.” Harry smirked.

Draco looked at Harry and then back at his coffee. He lifts it to his lips and takes a small sip before grimacing and sticking out his tongue. Harry starts laughing but can’t help finding the reaction endearing.

“Ugh, how much sugar is in that?” Draco passes it back over.

“Like 2 shots of caramel, and maybe a couple of sugars?” Harry explains slightly embarrassed.

“You’ll have no teeth in a few years, merlin.” Draco says but smiles despite it.

“Well I’m sorry that you obviously don’t like flavour.” Harry bats.

“What can I say, my coffee matches my soul.” Draco mocks, “Dark and bitter.”

“I don’t believe you.” Harry smiles, “I bet your soul matches my coffee, sweet and addictive.” Harry’s not sure where the confidence came from, but he then decides to wink at Draco.

“I’m not sweet!” Draco kicks Harry under the table and Harry bursts out in laughter. All the tension he was holding earlier falls and he feels relaxed, happy.

They spend their time laughing, chatting, catching up on the last few years. Draco tells him about his job and all the unusual customers that he’s encountered; Harry, in return, relays the weirdest Auror missions he’s been on. They gossip about their friends and exchange disbelief in the ongoing insanity of Prophet headlines. They talk about family.

“How’s your mother?” Harry asks gently after they’d lulled into a silence.

“She’s well. Thank you. I try and visit her often; I don’t like the idea of her being alone in the Manor. But she’s as happy as she can be. She’s redecorating actually, which is nice.”

“I’m glad.” Harry thinks of Narcissa, and thinks of how she helped him, “She deserves to be happy.” He pauses for a moment before sharing, “I don’t know if you knew that she helped me. In the war.” Draco shakes his head in response, his eyes meet Harry’s with a curiosity, “She lied to Voldemort, she protected me. She’s a good woman.”

“I – I didn’t know. But you’re right. She is good. She’s the best mother I could ask for.” Draco adds and Harry notices his eyes glisten slightly with a sheen of water.

“Um, I’d like to thank her properly, one day, if that’s – if that’s okay with you and her.” Harry stutters out.

“I think she’d like that.” He smiles a little. They fall into quiet again as they sip at their coffees. It’s peaceful, Harry thinks. He likes this.

“How are the Weasley’s?” Draco asks after a while, thinking of Harry’s family. Harry chuckles slightly before responding.

“Molly is as protective as always. She makes sure I check in regularly and I appreciate it really, even if I do moan.” Harry smiles to himself, “I see Ron and Ginny a lot as well, I’m sure you’ll see them more often, if you want to?” He shakes his head slightly as he corrects himself, “I mean, it was nice seeing you at the pub, you’d be welcome to join again – especially if you keep buying us rounds.” Draco laughs brightly.

“I’m not sure my bank account will be happy,” Draco jokes, “but I would like that, to join again.”

They return to telling stories, about nights at the Leaky gone wrong and their most embarrassing Hogwarts tales and even what they had for lunch in the week. They talk about anything and everything and before they know it, they’ve been sitting in the café for hours.

“We should do this again.” Draco says as he is gathering himself to leave.

“We should.”

They set up another meeting and part ways.

The next few weeks are filled with walks in the park, intriguing restaurants, and trips to the cinema – “Yes, I have seen a film before Potter, I’m not that naïve.” They even manage to play a game of quidditch - "Ha! I told you I'd win!"

It’s filled with subtle glances and sitting close enough for knees to tough It's filled with laughs and smiles and hands grazing as they walk side by side. Hugs before they say their goodbyes. It’s more that Harry expected. It’s better than he expected.

But Harry decides that he is greedy, he wants more.

It’s a Saturday evening and they are both slouched on Harry’s couch with a nonsensical film gracing the television screen. Harry is smiling and trying to hold back his laughter as Draco has a running commentary throughout the poorly constructed film.

“What is that outfit? She looks like someone tipped a can of paint over her.”

“Excuse me, that makes no sense, I thought they said she was a ghost? Why is she eating pasta like it’s no-bodies business.”

“And after everything, she does it anyway. Merlin, I wouldn’t trust this woman with a pair of scissors.”

“No one would ever do that. I take that back; you’d probably do that. No _sane_ person would ever do that.”

Harry kicks Draco at this and Draco then kicks him back. So, Harry does it again but harder and Draco takes this as a challenge so whacks Harry back again until they are all but wrestling on the sofa, the film forgotten. They tumble back and forth: pushing, kicking, and laughing. Harry uses all his force to push Draco down onto the couch until he’s pinning Draco’s arms above his head and practically straddling his waist.

“Okay, okay, you win! Potter.” Draco replies, and sticks his tongue out and pulls a face at Harry. Their breathing is heavy, and Harry realises just how close he is to Draco. Harry thinks Draco notices too as a blush covers his cheeks and he looks away from Harry. Harry goes to release his arms and move away before he does something he regrets, before he ruins his new-found friendship, but is stopped as Draco tugs on Harry’s shirt and pulls him down into a kiss. Harry freezes for a moment and then relaxes. It’s soft and gentle at first but quickly becomes needy and heavy. Harry pulls away to breathe.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t – I should” Draco starts, as if he’s done something wrong but before he can continue, he’s interrupted with Harry’s lips and he’s pushed back down. This time it is quick but intense and Harry pulls away but leaves his forehead against Draco’s. He breathes heavily and looks straight into Draco’s swirling silver eyes. Enchanting, he thinks.

“Don’t apologise.” Harry smiles gently and then pecks Draco’s lips again. Draco looks shocked and now it’s Harry’s turn to second guess, “Is this okay?” He asks.

“Yes, yes – I just didn’t expect – I thought – Merlin.” Draco laughs and gives up speaking. He kisses Harry again. Harry smiles into the kiss. This is the start of something good, Harry thinks.

That night, Harry’s on the map. Harry’s navigating the map. And Godrick, is it the most beautiful map he’s ever seen. Harry carefully traces and learns every corner, every rip, every turning, and direction on his map. Harry wants to learn his map off my heart. To know all its secret routes, all its hidden gems.

And some days, Harry still struggles reading the map or doesn’t want to read to map or maybe he can’t even find the map. But Draco tells his that that’s okay. Draco tells him that he doesn’t care because even if Harry never had a map, he will be there. Draco teaches him that some relationships don’t need maps and that that’s okay too.

Some nights, Harry loves his map.

Every night, Harry loves his Draco.

**Author's Note:**

> Thenk you for reading!!
> 
> I do the tumblr too, but there's no coherence so be warned:
> 
> Bee-Slytherpuff  
> Bumble-Beckie


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